Don't Let Go
by Dead Man's Toe
Summary: Morty's been in pain for too long, so he decides to do something about it, but can his grandpa's love save him? Not incest. TW for self harm and attempted suicide.
1. The Attempt

**Author's note:** In this universe, it is important to remember that Rick never wiped away any of Morty's memories.

* * *

Morty was tired.

He was tired of his parents' constant fighting. He was tired of the constant bullying at school. He was tired of letting his parents down with every bad grade he received. He was tired of being the stupid one of the family. He was tired of being the least favorite child. He was tired of always being the screw up. He was tired of hating himself.

Morty got some relief from the adventures he went on with Rick, but even then he had to put up with Rick's constant belittling, reminding him that he was an idiot. "As dumb as they come," Rick had said once. Morty scoffed. He knew he wasn't smart. Why did everyone have to keep reminding him of it?

Fully clothed, he settled into the steaming hot water of the bathtub. He drank a swig of hard liquor he'd stolen from Rick and set it next to him. He needed that liquid courage for what he was about to do.

He rolled up his sleeve, revealing the tally marks of scars that ran up and down his arms; scars from the battles he had fought and lost. Some were bright, angry red, and some were dull white. He took another swig of liquor and grabbed his blade.

Nobody would miss him when he was gone. Rick would just head over to the citadel and find himself a new Morty so he could keep using those brain waves. He was replaceable, and he knew it.

Without hesitating, he dug the blade into his wrist as hard as he could. Blood pooled out, mixing with the bathwater. He dragged the blade up his arm a few inches, savoring the pain. He didn't make a sound, not wanting to be interrupted. As soon as he was done with his left arm, he switched hands and repeated the action on his right.

Once he had finished, he placed the bloody blade on the side of the tub and leaned back, resting his head against the wall and closing his eyes. Now, all he had to do was wait.

To his annoyance, he heard a knocking on the locked door. "Morty," Rick's gruff voice pierced through the door. "Hurry up in there, ok?"

Morty sighed. It was just like Rick to have the worst timing ever. All he wanted to do was die in peace, and he couldn't even get that.

"M-m-morty, I know y-you're in there! At least answer me!"

The water was bright red by now, and Morty knew his short life would be coming to an end soon. "Morty?" Rick's voice sounded concerned. "Y-y-you okay in theEURGHre, bud?"

Morty heard no more as he blacked out.

* * *

Rick was done screwing around. If Morty wasn't answering, he had to be seriously hurt. He probably fell and hit his head on the counter. When he was met with nothing but silence, he pulled out his portal gun and portalled his way into the bathroom.

The sight that lay before him knocked the breath right out of him. Morty- his Morty, was laying in a bathtub full of his own blood, a razor and a bottle of Rick's liquor discarded on the floor. Rick's mouth hung open as his insides twisted inside him. It felt like somebody had stabbed him with a knife. "Morty!" he exclaimed.

He quickly made a portal to the best hospital in the universe. He lunged for Morty, scooping the small boy up in his arms. Despite the hot water, his skin was cold, and he was way too pale. Rick ran through the portal, grandson in arms. "Help!" he practically screamed. "My grandson's bleeding out!"

Within a few seconds, a stretcher was pulled up beside him. Rick gently set his grandson down while a nurse worked at bandaging his arms. She began to move him, and Rick followed her down the hall and into a tiny, white, cold room.

He sat down in a chair and watched as a doctor rushed in to stitch up Morty's wound. As he watched in horror, he saw the multitude of other scars littering his arm in the other direction. Just how long had Morty been cutting? Rick tried to think back to when Morty first started wearing long sleeves, but he couldn't remember. How had he missed the signs? God, he was so stupid.

A choked sob wrenched its way out of Rick's throat. He looked down at his hands, covered in Morty's blood. All he could think was why. Why had Morty done this? What had brought him to this point? And could Rick have done anything to prevent it?

He jumped when the doctor put a hand on his shoulder. "Your grandson's going to be fine," she said in a soothing voice that helped quell the storm in Rick's stomach. He wasn't going to lose Morty. "We'll have him admitted to the psych ward tomorrow. For now, he needs rest."

Rick nodded, unable to speak or tear his eyes away from the limp form of his grandson. "I can bring in a cot if you would like to stay the night," the doctor offered. Numbly, Rick nodded again, accepting the offer.

The doctor left and returned with a rolling cot with a blanket and pillow piled on top. Rick moved to sit down on the edge and stare at Morty. Color had returned to his face, and an IV was sending medicine into his bloodstream. Gently, he grabbed his grandson's hand and with one of his own, and with the other, he traced the scars on his arms. How had he not noticed Morty was in so much pain? How could he have been so blind?

Gently, he raised Morty's hand and placed a soft kiss on his knuckles. "Y-y-you're gonna be ok, M-morty," he reassured his unconscious grandson. "Grandpa's here now."


	2. Why?

Something was wrong. Even with closed eyes, Morty could tell that the lights were too bright, that his bed wasn't his own, and that something had his hand. He opened his eyes, squinting into the bright light above him. These white walls were unfamiliar. He looked to his right. There laid his grandpa, sleeping soundly with his hand clutching Morty's.

He racked his foggy brain, trying to remember how he got there. He sat up, making a moaning sound that awoke Rick. "G-grandpa Rick?" Morty asked, his voice hoarse. "Where are we?"

"The best hospital in theEURGH universe," he replied. He had a strange look on his face, and it was making Morty feel very uncomfortable.

"W-w-what happened?" he asked. Another adventure gone wrong?

Rick looked at him with grave seriousness, making Morty want to back away as far as he could, expect Rick still hadn't let go of his hand. "Y-you-you tried to kill y-yourself, Morty."

The words sunk in as yesterday's events came rushing back to him. No. It couldn't be. He had failed.

He let out a strangled cry as he fell backwards. As awareness started returning to him, he could see that he was dressed in a hospital gown. All of his scars were on display for Rick to see. He glanced at his wrists. The vertical scars from yesterday shone bright red with stitches covering them up.

"W-w-why?" he stuttered. A few tears ran from his eyes. All he had wanted to do was die, and Rick ruined that for him.

"Why what, buddy?"

"Why couldn't you just let me go?"

The words hung heavy in the air as silence filled the room. Morty had thought his plan was fool-proof. He didn't understand why he was still alive or why Rick kept giving him that look.

"Because I need you, y-you idiot," Rick finally responded softly.

"Yeah, m-my brainwaves, right," Morty mumbled. "Which is why y-you have a coupon to g-g-get a new Morty."

Rick's eyes held so much pain, more than Morty had ever seen before. "I d-don't want a new Morty!" he exclaimed indignantly. "I want my Morty."

Morty's eyebrows furrowed as he frowned and looked at Rick in confusion. "Why?There's nothing special about me."

"Because I love you, kid. Y-you're really special to me Morty. I n-need ya."

At that, Morty's heart wrenched in agony. He ripped his hand free from Rick's, curled up into himself in fetal position with his back to Rick, and began to sob. Why was Rick making this difficult? He wrapped his arms tightly around his stomach, hugging himself. Tears and snot streamed freely down his face.

He felt the presence of his grandpa sit on the bed next to him. Without a word, he was scooped up into the man's arms and held tightly against his chest. A hand rubbed soothing circles across his back. "I got you, Morty," Rick whispered. "Just let it all out."

Morty felt Rick's lab coat become soaked beneath him as he cried into it. His face flushed in shame. No one was supposed to see him like this. He was supposed to he dead. Why wasn't he dead?

He noticed drops of water falling into his hair and realized that Rick must be crying too. This was all wrong. This wasn't supposed to happen. Rick was supposed to just bury him next to his other self's corpse and replace him with a new Morty. He wasn't supposed to cause his grandpa pain. The reality of the situation hurt, and Morty found himself just wishing he were dead even more if all he did was cause pain.

* * *

Rick had no idea how long the two of them sat in that hospital room in silence, long after their tears had run dry, just holding on to one another. He tried to wrap his mind around the situation, but it all felt like a nightmare that he would wake up from any minute. But the minutes ticked by, and it was very clear that Rick would not be waking up from this.

"H-h-hey, Morty?" Rick gently questioned. "Can we t-talk abEURGH about what happened?"

"Y-yeah, I guess," Morty replied flatly. His voice seemed drained of emotion as if he had cried it all out into Rick's lab coat.

Rick sighed. "I know th-this is gonna be hard to- to talk about, but it would really help me help y-you."

Morty nodded mutely.

"So," Rick began awkwardly. "Why'd you do it."

Morty shrugged. "I'm just tired, I guess."

Rick could empathize with that. His long life full of failures had left him tired as well. And yeah, Rick had tried to take his own life before, but that was never supposed to happen to his grandson. Morty was supposed to be filled with naive optimism, not overwhelming pain. Rick's old heart was breaking more and more with each passing second.

"Tired of what?" he prompted.

"The fighting. The bullying. Never being good enough. Being stupid."

"The fighEURGHting...?" Rick wondered. "You mean your parents?"

Morty nodded miserably. "They never want to be together. All they do is yell."

Rick began rubbing Morty's back again. "I'm s-sorry that affects you," he said lamely. He wasn't a comforting person, but right now, Morty needed him to try. He didn't know what to say. Beth and Jerry's marriage simply couldn't be helped. So, he decided to move on to the next topic. "The other kids bully you?"

"You've seen that," Morty grumbled. It was true. Rick had walked in on the middle of Morty being hurt a few times. "They tease me too," Morty added. "I think that hurts worse."

Rick himself had never had a bullying problem since most of the kids in his class were scared of him. "Y-y-you can't worry about what they think," Rick said. "Now, what makes you think you're not good enough?"

Morty let out a sad laugh. "I remember being trapped in that red bubble. My own mother didn't even hesitate to save Summer over me. How bad do I have to be that my parents don't even love me?"

His eyes started shining with unshed tears, and Rick was beginning to panic. The kid was a lot more screwed up than he thought. He needed a trained therapist, not his asshole of a grandpa. But right now, he was all Morty had.

"Your parents love you, M-morty," Rick argued. "To- to hell with them. I love you."

Morty simply shrugged. His body language had changed, and he seemed to be shrinking into himself.

Rick sighed. That just left one more thing. "Why would you say you're stupid?"

Morty looked up at him in shock. "You tell me all the time," he said. "I'm 'as dumb as they come', remember? I'm barely passing my classes, my teachers treat me like I'm stupid, and everyone calls me a retard!"

A pang of guilt hit Rick right in the heart as Morty revealed his contribution to all the weight resting on his tired shoulders. "M-m-morty, you can't really thEURGH think that I mean any of that. I-i-i-i just don't know how else to be, so I hide my feelings behind insults."

"Y-you don't think I'm stupid?" Morty asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

"Not in a million years. You're a lot of things Morty, but stupid isn't one of them."

At that, Morty leaned back into Rick's arms. Rick gently grabbed one of Morty's arms with his rough hands. "When did you start cutting?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"A few months ago. I just couldn't handle it anymore. Brad called me a retard, and I couldn't take it."

Rick's stomach dropped. His grandson had been cutting for that long, and he hadn't noticed a thing. He hugged Morty with his long arms and rested his chin on the top of his grandson's head. "Y-you're gonna be ok, Morty," he assured the young boy. "We're gonna get you fixed up."


	3. Doctor Kingsley

Morty stared down at his shoes while the eyes of his new doctor bore into him. He crossed his ankles anxiously, unable to take his eyes off of the ugly yellow carpet.

"Mortimer Smith?" the psychiatrist gently asked.

"Call me Morty," Morty mumbled, kicking his feet against the floor.

"Morty," she said softly. "How are you feeling today?"

Morty shrugged. "Just tired, I guess."

"Tired of living?" she asked bluntly.

Morty looked up and blinked in surprise. "Uh-uh-uh I g-guess," he stammered. His face grew hot and red.

Doctor Kingsley scribbled something down in her notepad before continuing. "Is that why you tried to kill yourself?"

"Yeah," Morty admitted, his voice very weak.

"How long have you been cutting?" she asked, pushing a stray blonde hair out of her face.

"A few months now," Morty replied. He didn't want to be talking about this. He just wanted to be dead. Why didn't anyone seem to understand that?

"Does it help?"

"What?" Morty asked in surprise.

"The cutting. Does it help?"

"Y-yeah, actually," Morty admitted, feeling a deep sense of shame come over him. Honestly, what kind of freak was he?

"How does it help?" Doctor Kingsley prompted.

"It makes everything go away," Morty said. He was growing more uncomfortable by the minute and went back to staring at his shoes and that ugly carpet.

"What's everything?"

"Mom and Dad's fighting. The bullying. Not being good enough."

The doctor wrote more on her notepad before continuing. "Why do you think you're not good enough?"

"W-w-well, I'm stupid," he admitted. Tears were welling up in his eyes, and he hated appearing so weak in front of the doctor.

"Why say that?"

"Everyone tells me."

"And you believe them?"

Morty could feel a cry trying to get passed his throat. He only nodded, not trusting his voice.

The psychiatrist continued writing. "I'm gonna assign you to Doctor Blair. He and I will work with you in getting you feeling better."

"O-o-okay," Morty stuttered, tears starting to leak out of his eyes.

"I'm gonna start you on twenty milligrams of Prozac, and we'll see how it goes from there," Doctor Kingsley said. "The staff will bring it to you each morning."

"How long do I gotta stay here?" Morty asked, feeling hopeless.

Doctor Kingsley gave him a sympathetic look. "Until we believe that you are no longer a danger to yourself."

With her questioning all done, Morty left the office. He was tired, and he just wanted to go home, but he was stuck now in the psych ward. Morty never imagined he would be hospitalized like this before. He had no idea what to expect, and that was terrifying him.

Rick sat just outside Doctor Kingsley's office and jumped up as soon as he saw Morty. "M-morty!" he exclaimed. "How'd it gEURGH go?"

"Alright, I guess. They're p-putting me on medication."

"That's good, r-r-right?" Rick asked. "I need my little buddy feeling better so we can go on adventures again."

Morty shrugged. "I don't see why we can't just go home."

Rick grabbed his shoulders and looked him dead in the eye. "W-w-we can't go home because, Morty, I don't want to EVER see you like that again."

A cold chill ran down Morty's spine as he wondered what it must have been like for Rick to find him like that. Maybe, just maybe, he could accept that he was important to his grandpa.

"Uh, R-r-rick?"

"Yes, Morty?"

Morty's face flushed with embarrassment. "I-i-i need to take a leak, and the only bathrooms here are public until they set me up with a room."

* * *

Morty didn't have to say anything else. Rick remembered clearly the disheveled, crying boy practically throwing himself into Rick's arms unexpectedly during his adventure. He had wondered why Morty was suddenly so upset, but he didn't have to wonder for long as he saw a beat-up looking jellybean-like creature exit the bathroom. Instantly, Rick put two and two together as he glared down the jellybean man.

"Well I gotta take a piss too," Rick said, noticing his grandson's embarrassment and not wanting to upset the fragile child even more. The last thing Morty needed was a reminder of his trauma.

"Oh, o-o-okay," Morty stuttered. "The bathroom's just down the hall."

Rick accompanied his grandson to the restroom, knowing that if it made his grandson feel safer, it was worth it. Perhaps mentioning the assault to Morty's therapist would be a good idea. Rick couldn't help Morty get over his trauma, but maybe a trained professional could.

After leaving the restroom, Rick asked, "What do you want me toEURGH bring you from the house?"

"Just some fresh clothes," Morty replied.

Rick agreed. Truth be told, he could use some fresh clothes too. His coat was stained with blood and snot that would probably never come clean, but Rick was ok with that. It wasn't his only one, so he may as well just trash it.

His stomach began to fill with anxiety as he started thinking about how to tell the rest of the family what happened. Rick wasn't good at gentle and subtle, and he had no idea how his daughter's family would react to the news. He already had one broken child to take care of; he didn't need three more.

So Rick stalled, keeping his grandson company until a room was ready for him. Morty curled up on the bed, looking like he hadn't slept for days. Reluctantly, Rick brought out his portal gun. "Is there anything you want me to tell your family?"

Morty shook his head mutely.

"Okay," Rick said with a deep breath as he opened a portal back to Beth's house. "I-i'll see you soon, kiddo."


	4. Liz

It wasn't long before a girl with green-dyed hair appeared in Morty's doorway with a friendly grin. "Hey, newbie," she called out to him. Morty stifled a groan. He really wasn't in the mood for chit-chat. He sat up in his bed, observing the stranger. She was rocking on her feet, and her hands were shaking. "I'm Liz," she continued. "Doctor Kingsley asked me to bring you down to the cafeteria for lunch."

At the thought of food, Morty's stomach growled. He had to admit he was hungry. "Ok," he replied meekly, standing up. He was now dressed in white scrubs that the hospital loaned to him until Rick brought him some fresh clothes. His old clothes were covered in blood.

"Welcome to the ward," Liz said. "This your first time?"

Morty nodded as the two began to walk down the hallway. "Ouch, that looks bad," Liz added, staring down at his wrists. Morty blushed and tried to cover it with his sleeves. "It's fine," Liz reassured him. "I've got my own self-harm scars. I'm guessing that's the reason you're here?"

"Um, uh, y-yeah," Morty stuttered, feeling embarrassed.

"There's no need to be ashamed," Liz said. "You're around friends now. We get it."

Morty gave the girl a small smile in response. He knew nobody in his family could understand, and having a friend who could didn't seem like a bad idea. Even if she was a little nosy, Morty didn't mind so much. At least she was interested in him.

"How long have you been here, Liz?" Morty asked.

"About two weeks," Liz answered. "I was having the mother of all manic episodes before my parents decided they couldn't take care of me anymore and stuck me in here."

"W-w-wow," Morty stuttered. "I'm sorry."

Liz shrugged. "It's not all bad. They put me on better meds, plus I've got the chance to make friends with people like me."

She twirled a strand of green hair around her finger as she talked. Morty smiled, glad that the other girl had taken him under her wing. In this unfamiliar, scary environment, it was nice to see a friendly face.

Morty shook his head to himself. He had never had friends in school. What made him think he could make a friend here? Even if Liz was being nice to him, the whole thing just seemed to good to be true.

His stomach rolled with anxiety as they entered the small cafeteria. Other kids were sitting at circular tables, smiling and laughing at each other. It definitely wasn't a sight he expected to see in the psych ward. When he thought of a psych ward, he thought of much darker, gloomier thoughts than the scene that lay before him. He smiled softly to himself, hoping that maybe he'd found somewhere he belonged.

"Let's getcha a tray, and I'll introduce you to my friends," Liz said, guiding him towards the food. Morty breathed in the aroma of fresh chicken and roasted chickpeas. His mouth began to water. When was the last time he had eaten? He wasn't sure. He piled his plate high, then sat next to Liz at a round table.

"Hey guys, meet the newbie," Liz said to her group of friends. There was a redheaded girl who looked like she could be no older than ten, a tall boy who's black hair hung in his face, and a blonde boy with burn marks covering his arm.

"H-h-hi," Morty stuttered. "I'm M-morty."

"I'm Grace," said the young girl in a high-pitched voice.

"Danny," said the tall boy.

"Paul," the blonde boy said.

Morty shook each of their hands individually and wondered what their stories were that brought them here, especially Grace. She seemed much too young to be in a place for people in pain, and her soft smile seemed to radiate happiness. Morty knew looks could be deceiving, but he was still shocked.

"Don't be shy, Morty," Danny said with a friendly smile. "If you have any questions or just need to talk, we're."

"W-wow, th-thanks," Morty replied. He blushed slightly, not used to so much friendliness. The psych ward was a strange, new world.

* * *

As soon as the portal disappeared behind him, Rick shut the door to his bedroom. He didn't want to shock his family by walking into the living room covered in blood. He quickly changed and made his way to the bathroom. Under the cold water, he rubbed at his hands until all the blood had come off. He splashed some on his face, hoping to erase the evidence of his crying.

When he was finished preparing himself, he walked down the stairs. His stomach rolled with anxiety as he tried to figure out what to say. How was he supposed to tell his daughter that her son had tried to kill himself?

He stood in the living room, filled with dread. Beth and Jerry were watching some Earth show on the TV while Summer was playing on her phone. He cleared his throat, unsure of how to begin.

Beth looked up at him. "Is everything alright, Dad?" she asked.

Rick could feel pressure building behind his eyes as he remember the scene from yesterday; Morty drenched in his own blood. "No," he admitted. "W-we need to talk about Morty."

He suddenly had everyone's attention. The TV was turned off, and Summer put her phone down. Rick bit at his bottom lip in anxiety, trying to figure out how to tell them.

"Did something happen?" Jerry asked, with an edge of anger to his voice.

"Dad, where is he?" Beth asked, looking around.

"H-h-he's in the best hospital in the universe," Rick replied, causing all three of his family members to drop their jaws in shock.

"Is he hurt?" Jerry demanded.

Rick nodded his head. "Everything's going to be fine, the doctors are working with him right now."

Jerry stood, crossed his arms, and glared. "What did you do to my son?" he spat.

Rick let out a long, world-weary sigh. It was better just to tell them, like ripping off a bandaid, right? "Actually, i-i-it's about what we all did to Morty." He paused for a second, swallowing back the bile in his throat. "He tried to kill himself."

"What?" Beth almost screamed as she jumped up. Jerry was quick to wrap her up in his arms. Summer put a hand to her mouth, tears already starting to come out. "Why?" Beth asked.

"It probably has something to do with all those adventures," Jerry spat out venomously.

"Actually, it has nothing to do with any of that," Rick replied. "We didn't make Morty feel loved and appreciated, and as a result he became severely depressed."

He could see the hearts of his family breaking, just like his did. "He's a good kid, and he thinks we don't love him."

"How could he think that?" Beth asked, tears streaming freely down her face.

"Do you remember when Morty was infected by that alien parasite? All we had to do to help him fight it off was show him we loved him, and we couldn't even do that."

Beth put her head in her hands despairingly. "Oh god, you're right!" she exclaimed. "We've failed him."

"Hold on just a minute," Jerry replied angrily. "I'm not convinced this has nothing to do with your influence."

"Jerry!" Beth exclaimed, wrenching herself out of his arms.

"I know I can be mean," Rick admitted. "And I never tell Morty how much I love and appreciate him. But we are all at fault here. After all, you treat him differently because he's autistic."

Jerry's eyes flashed with pain as he sat back down.

"And Beth," Rick continued, "you make him feel second to Summer."

"Oh my god, I need to see him!" Summer demanded.

Rick held up a hand. "I will be returning to the hospital tonight. I will ask him if we wants you to visit, and if he does, I will take you to him, but for now, I need you guys to trust me."

The three of them nodded. No eyes in the room were dry, Rick realized as he felt tears running down his own cheeks. He excused himself and made his was up to Morty's bedroom. Morty needed fresh clothes, so that's what Rick packed for him, along with his toothbrush. He found a picture from one of their family vacations sitting on his desk, and he packed that too, thinking Morty could use some happy memories.

As he packed, he wondered how long Morty had been planning this. He brought a hand to his mouth to stifle a sob. His Morty deserved better, and Rick swore on his life that he was going to start getting it.


	5. Promise Me

When Morty returned to his room, Rick was waiting for him, sitting on the bed with his head in his hands. A suitcase sat at his feet. Morty cleared his throat, and Rick looked up. Quickly, his grandpa tried to hide his pained look with a smile. "Morty!" he greeted. "H-how you feeling, buddy?"

"Better," Morty answered honestly. He moved to sit down next to Rick on the bed. Rick placed his arm over Morty's shoulders, still smiling, but Morty could still see the tear tracks on his face. A pang of guilt hit him right in the stomach. He knew he was the cause of his grandpa's pain and that Rick would be better off with a new Morty; a Morty that wasn't a failure. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "How's my family?"

"Shocked," Rick replied. "Upset. Worried. They wanna visit you, but I told them I'd talk to you first."

Morty blinked in surprise. "They know you can just get a new Morty, right?"

"Damn it!" Rick swore loudly, causing Morty to jump off the bed and back away in fear.

"I-i-i'm sorry," Rick apologized. "We don't want another Morty. We want you, ya idiot."

Morty bit at his bottom lip as he considered what Rick was saying. He couldn't wrap his head around the idea that his family wanted him. Not with the memory of his mother choosing Summer over him without hesitation so fresh in his mind. It didn't add up.

Rick cringed, as if he could read Morty's mind. "Listen, your mother blames herself for this. When that incident happened, she wasn't thinking. I-'m not saying that makes it right, because it doesn't, but we have to learn to forgive her."

Morty had already forgiven his mother. He understood why his mother wanted Summer more. She wasn't disabled. She was "normal". And she had a lot more potential than Morty did.

"I brought you a picture," Rick said, unzipping the suitcase. He pulled out a framed photo from the time they had taken a family vacation to the world where hamsters lived in people's butts. Morty couldn't help but snicker when he saw it. Rick's eyes lit up at the sound of his laugh. "Remember how happy we were?"

"Yeah," Morty replied, smiling. What had happened to him? How had he gone from the boy smiling in the picture to this mess that he was now? Morty's smile fell. He moved to sit back down on the bed again. "I wish we could go back in time."

Rick let out a heavy sigh. "Me tooEURGH, k-kiddo."

Fresh tears pricked at Morty's eyes. "I wanna see my family," he decided.

"I think that's a good idea," Rick said. "I'll bring them here tonight."

"I-i-i need t-to apologize," Morty stuttered, the tears leaking out of his eyes now.

Rick's brow furrowed in concern. "Apologize for what, Morty?"

"For causing so much pain," he admitted.

"Oh, Morty, no," Rick said softly as he drew the boy in for a tight hug. "You have nothing to apologize for. We're the ones who failed you."

Morty started to sob into Rick's jacket. His grandpa let him, rubbing soothing circles on his back as he cried. Morty didn't even know why he was crying. All of the pain that he had been carrying suddenly seemed to be crashing down on him. It felt like the world had been ripped out from under his feet, leaving him to fall straight into the psych ward. God, he was such a screw up. How did he end up here?

"You're gonna be ok, Morty," Rick whispered. "Y-y-you may not believe me, but this is all gonna pass, and it'll be just you and me again. Rick and Morty and their wild adventures. I can't wait."

Morty sniffled and looked up at his grandpa. "You still want to have adventures with me?" he asked.

"Of course, ding-dong," Rick replied with a gentle smile as he tussled the boy's hair.

"Why can't we go now?"

"Morty, I'm not a-an easy man to scare," Rick began, "but seeing you in that bathtub... th-that's the most terrified I've ever been in my entire life. So you can't leave this hospital until I know you're n-n-not just going to try something like that again."

Morty nodded in disappointed understanding.

Rick grabbed his wrists and examined the scars. "You know this has to stop, right?"

Morty nodded again, tears threatening to overflow again. He didn't want to stop. Cutting was what made him feel okay. But it couldn't be a good thing since it was obviously causing Rick so much pain, so Morty would just have to do his best to try and stop.

"Promise me you'll talk to me if you feel like doing this to yourself," Rick demanded.

"I will," Morty answered in a small voice.

* * *

It had physically hurt Rick to leave his grandkid's side, but Doctor Blair was insistent on speaking with him before he treated Morty. So with a gentle kiss on his forehead and a promise to be back soon, he left his suffering grandson.

Tears of his own formed in his eyes as he walked down the hospital halls, tugging at the wet spot on his jacket.

Morty was going to get better, he kept reassuring himself. But it shouldn't have come to this in the first place. Rick should have seem the signs and gotten him help so much sooner. Even after a failed marriage and a strained relationship with his daughter, Rick never felt more like a failure than he did now.

He arrived at Doctor Blair's office and invited himself in, not even caring that he looked like a mess. He plopped down on the sofa with a big sigh and ran his fingers through his hair, which was sticking up all over the place.

"You must be Rick Sanchez," the doctor greeted. "Mortimer's grandfather."

"Morty," Rick corrected without really thinking about it.

"Right," the other man said. His voice was gentle and full of empathy. "I've seen many cases like this so believe me when I say things will get better."

"They have to," Rick agreed. "I don't know what I'd do without him."

Doctor Blair ran his fingers through his thick afro and pulled out a notepad. "So tell me everything you think I need to know about Morty Smith."

"His parents fight a lot," was the first thing Rick said. "He feels unloved."

"That's not uncommon for teenagers like him," Doctor Blair commented.

"You mean because he's autistic?" Rick asked.

"Yes," Doctor Blair replied. "How's his school life? Does he get bullied frequently?"

Rick let out a long sigh. "Yeah. I've tried talking to his parents about it, but they won't do anything."

"I see some family therapy will be necessary," Doctor Blair commented. "Is there anything else I should know?"

"Yeah, actually," Rick answered. "The kid was assaulted in a public bathroom awhile ago. H-h-he's got kinda a phobia now. Won't g-go without me or- or his dad."

Doctor Blair nodded. "I can work with him on this," he said.

"G-g-good," Rick stuttered. Those damn tears started to pool in his eyes again. "Because the kid needs help, a-a-and I can't save him."

"He doesn't need someone to save him," the doctor responded. "He simply needs someone to love him while we teach him how to save himself. I can already tell you're capable of that. Don't worry. We'll be working together to help young Morty."

Rick wiped at his eyes with his sleeves. "G-good, because he's my little buddy, there's no replacing him."

The doctor stood and walked over to Rick, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "He's lucky to have you."

"I-i-i don't think so," Rick admitted. "I'm just an asshole."

"Many people are," Doctor Blair said bluntly. "But if you're as important to him as he is to you, that's okay. You love him, you're going to do what's best for him. That's why you brought him here in the first place."

Rick nodded, not fully trusting his voice. He did love Morty, more than he would ever admit. And that was part of the problem. Not once had he told Morty how important he was to Rick. Maybe if he had, Morty wouldn't be stuck in this hospital in pain. There were a lot of maybes. Rick shook his head. It didn't do any good to focus on what could have been. Right now, Morty was the single most important thing in his life, and Rick would be damned if he wasn't going to help the boy recover.


	6. The Family

That evening, Rick brought Morty's family by. "Hey, sweetie," Beth said as she exited the portal, flinching when she saw the scars marking Morty's arm. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm good," Morty lied as the rest of his family made their way into the room.

Beth was the first to approach him. She sat next to him on his bed and wrapped him up in a tight hug. "Oh, Morty," her voice broke. "My baby."

"Son," Jerry said, sitting next to him on the other side and placing an arm over his shoulder. "What brought you to this?"

Morty only shrugged. He didn't really want to talk about it. His parents would never understand.

Summer crossed the room and sat on the floor in front of Morty's bed. She took his hands in hers and said, "We love you, Morty."

Morty's eyes welled up with tears as he realized just how seriously his family was taking it. After being infected with a giant alien worm, he had his reasons to doubt that they actually cared about him.

Morty didn't speak. He closed his eyes, allowing a few tears to fall out. His family gently encouraged him to talk, but Morty couldn't.

Beth didn't let go of her son. "Please get better, Morty," she tearfully encouraged.

"We believe in you," Summer added.

"We need you," Jerry said.

"Listen to me very carefully," Beth began. "I know you think that we can just go out and get another Morty, but we can't. You're the only Morty we're ever going to want."

At Beth's statement, a sob ripped out of Morty's throat. "I-i-i'm sorry," he cried.

"No honey, we're sorry," his mom corrected.

"Morty," Summer started. "I know you said that no one belongs anywhere. But the truth is, you belong here, with us. We're a family, and we just wouldn't be complete without our Morty."

"You can fight this, son," Jerry said. "You're the strongest kid I know. If anyone can beat this thing, it's you. Come back to us."

"I-i-i will. I promise," Morty said, attempting a small smile. His heart swelled within him with warmth. He wanted to go home with his family right then, but he knew Rick wouldn't allow it. Still, he had to try. "Can't we all just go home?"

"No," Rick said sternly.

Morty looked down at his feet, dejected. Deciding to change the topic, he blurted out, "I think I made a friend."

"That's great honey," Beth replied, ruffling Morty's hair.

"Her name's Liz, and she's sixteen," Morty continued. "She's got green hair."

"You like her," Jerry teased.

"No!" Morty exclaimed, suddenly flushed.

Summer squeezed his hands. "It's okay," she said. "I'm glad you have a friend."

"Me too," Morty replied. "This place was so scary, and I felt all alone, but now I know I'm not. And now I know I have you guys."

"Of course, sweetie," Beth said. "You've always had us. We just weren't good at showing it."

"That's ok," Morty said. "I know you're doing the best you can."

"It's not enough, whatever it is," Beth said, fresh tears pooling in her eyes. "Morty, from now on, I promise we're going to be better."

* * *

Once the family had left, Morty looked a little happier than he did this morning. He wondered how they could have failed him so bad that he ended up here, but there was no use in debating with himself about the past and how things should be, so he pushed the thought out of his mind and focused on the boy in front of him.

To think that Morty didn't think he was loved... well, it broke Rick's heart. He had never been particularly loving. He knew that he was gruff and mean. But Morty was special to him. That was enough to make Rick want to change his old ways.

Morty looked up at him with fear in his eyes. "Are you gonna leave now too?"

It was clear the kid did not want to be left on his own. "I'll tell youEURGH what," he said. "I'll stay until you fall asleep."

"Okay," Morty agreed, sounding relieved.

Rick sat down on the bed and watched Morty lay his head on the pillow. "I'm surprised they wanted to come," he admitted.

Rick's brow furrowed in distress. "Why?"

"Well I just thought that I'm only one of infinite Mortys. That I'm no big deal, right? I thought they'd rather just have another Morty."

Rick sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Morty had always had a low self-esteem, but it was becoming quite the problem now. That was one thing they were going to have to work on.

"Y-y-you're important, Morty," Rick said. "And while it's true that there are infinite Mortys out there, there's only one you."

Morty blinked and scrunched his face in confusion. "How does that work?"

"Y-y-you're irreplaceable, Morty," Rick told him. "You knEURGHow why? Because you're a unique individual. A-a-and if you died, nobody, not even another Morty, could replace you."

"I-i-i guess I see your point," Morty said slowly, looking up at Rick with his big, brown eyes.

Rick leaned over and ruffled the boy's hair. How had this kid wormed his way so deep into his old heart? It was a mystery to Rick. He cared too much, in his opinion, but he couldn't stop, and he wouldn't change it if he could. He'd go to the ends of the universe for Morty, yet he had unknowingly been destroying the boy with every gruff insult and harsh word.

He took Morty's hand in his own. The scars were still there, reminding him of his failures. It never occurred to him just how fragile the young boy was. He had dragged Morty around on countless adventures, so how had he missed this?

An unsavory image of the way he had tried to fry his brain after Unity left him suddenly filled his head and a cold lump rose in his throat. Rick knew he was depressed, so he should have known the signs. He should have seen something. There was no way that Morty hadn't been screaming out for help this entire time.

The little boy had been more enthusiastic than usual about their adventures, and he no longer complained. He had started wearing long sleeves wherever they went, no matter the temperature. Rick saw less and less of him around the house; the boy had taken to staying locked away in his own room. He never talked about school, and when asked, he would quickly change the subject.

Rick realized that tears were streaming freely down his face as he stared down at the boy's hand. He looked up, seeing that his grandson had fallen into a peaceful slumber. It was late, and Rick knew he should do the same. He stood, placed a gentle kiss on Morty's forehead, and whispered, "I love you, Morty."

He pulled out his portal gun and shot himself into Beth's house. The hallways were quiet. He assumed everyone else had gone to sleep. Rick made his way to his own room. It was a mess with papers scattered everywhere and a cot tucked in the corner. He sighed as he crashed down on his bed, not even bothering to change. He kicked his shoes off and curled up on his side.

Rick pressed a hand to his mouth to try and contain his sob, but he couldn't. There was nothing he could do but let the waterworks run as he cried himself to sleep.


	7. Doctor Blair

The next morning, a nurse brought by a small blue pill for Morty to take with water. She informed him that breakfast was being served at the cafeteria and told him that he should get something to eat.

Morty took the path Liz had shown him down to the cafeteria, and to his relief, Liz and her friends were already sitting there. He quickly grabbed a tray of food and made his way to their table.

"Good morning!" Grace greeted him.

"Good morning," Morty replied with a yawn.

"Who's your therapist?" Liz asked.

"Doctor Blair," Morty responded.

"Alright. I'll show you to his office after breakfast," Liz said. "You're probably going to be his eight a.m. slot."

Morty thanked Liz and dug into his eggs. They tasted much better than what he expected from hospital food. In fact, everything here was better than expected. When Morty had come, he had felt hopeless, but now he was starting to feel a spark of optimism that he could get better.

When Morty and Liz had finished eating, the girl led him down Doctor Blair's office. The door was slightly open. Liz knocked twice before entering.

"Good morning, Liz," the doctor greeted her. "What brings you here?"

"I was just showing Morty the way here," she said. "I figured you'd want to see him soon."

"Actually, I was about to look for him," Doctor Blair replied. "Come on in, Morty."

Morty entered the office nervously. "I'll leave you to it," Liz said as she closed the door, leaving him alone with the doctor. "How are you feeling today, Morty."

"Uh, f-fine, I guess," Morty replied.

"Take a seat," the doctor instructed.

Morty sat down in a large, plush armchair across from the doctor's desk. Nervously, he began to wring his hands together. "Have you had any more thoughts of wanting to kill yourself?"

"No," Morty answered honestly.

"Will you tell me why you wanted to kill yourself?"

"I-i didn't think anyone cared about me," Morty admitted.

"And why would you think that?"

Morty bit at his bottom lip as he tried to think about how to answer. "Well, have you heard of the multiverse?"

"I have not," the doctor answered.

"Well basically, there's infinite timelines, meaning there are infinite versions of me, so I thought if I died my grandpa would just replace me," Morty told him. His nerves were starting to ease up. Something about Doctor Blair's kind eyes put him at ease. "If I had known how much pain I was going to cause, I would have never done it."

"So you would have stayed alive for the sake of your family?" the doctor asked.

"Yes," Morty agreed.

"What about yourself?"

Morty paused before answering. "I-i-i don't know," he admitted. "My life isn't that great."

"Why not?"

"Well, my parents are always fighting, I'm constantly getting bullied at school, I'm not very smart, and I know my sister is the favorite child."

"Why would you say you're not smart?" Doctor Blair questioned.

"Well, I don't do well in school," Morty said. "My dad says I have a learning disability."

"Autism Spectrum Disorder," the doctor replied. "That doesn't mean you're stupid, that just means your brain works different than everyone else's."

Morty nodded, considering this. "Did you know your grandpa's also autistic?"

Morty looked up in surprise. "No," he said. His grandpa was a genius. It had never occurred to him that they might be the same.

"I bet outside of school, you're actually very bright," the doctor continued.

Morty thought back to his adventures with Rick and how many times he had to save his grandpa's ass. He nodded, considering it for the first time. "Y-yeah, maybe you're right."

The Doctor smiled kindly. "So it sounds like your depression stems from the idea that you think you are unloved," he continued. "Has that changed in the past 48 hours?"

"Yeah," Morty replied with a nod. "My family visited me. They were so upset. I had no idea."

"Often times, when we feel unloved, it is simply because our needs are not being met," the doctor explained. "Would you like to bring your family in tomorrow so we can discuss those needs?"

"Yes," Morty agreed.

"Very well then," the doctor said. He pulled out a packet from his desk. "I want you to fill out this questionnaire and get it back to me tonight," he explained. "It will help me identify your needs and help me better explain them to your family."

Morty and Doctor Blair spent the rest of the hour talking about cognitive distortions and how to fix them. Morty had never realized just how actively his mind was working against him, telling him that he was stupid for not making better grades and unloved because his needs were not being met. But the most important thing Morty learned in that hour was that none of this was his fault.

* * *

"Morty, hurry up in there," Rick said, standing at the bathroom door. When there was no answer he simply created a portal to the bathroom and stepped through. The sight of Morty's lifeless body floating in a bathtub full of his own blood greeted him.

"Morty!" Rick screamed as he awoke. It took him several minutes to calm his heart rate. Morty was safe, he reminded himself. He was at the best hospital in the universe, alive and well, at least physically.

Rick ran his hands over his face. He felt like he hadn't slept at all last night. His clothes were wrinkled and worn. He didn't even want to see a mirror. His eyes felt puffy, and he was sure they were still red. Normally, he wouldn't want to be seen like this, but he had to see Morty.

He pulled out his portal gun and set the coordinates for Morty's room in the hospital. He rushed through, seeing Morty on the other side. His grandson was sitting on his bed, filling out some paperwork. He glanced up at the sound of Rick entering the room. "Hi, Rick!" he greeted cheerfully.

"M-m-morty," Rick stuttered. He felt as if he couldn't breathe. The air was flowing in and out, but his lungs were on fire. Was he having a panic attack, or was he dying? Rick wasn't sure.

Luckily, Morty realized what was going on. He jumped out of bed and threw his arms around his grandpa's waist. "It's ok," he said gently. "I'm ok."

One of Rick's hands rested on top of Morty's head while the other wrapped around his back. "M-morty," he said again, breathing out.

"What happened?" Morty asked.

This was normally the point where Rick would shout "wub a lub a dub dub" and change the subject, but he thought Morty needed to know the truth. "I saw you," he said. "In that bathtub. Morty, it was awful!"

Morty hugged Rick tighter. "I'm sorry you had to see that," he said. "But it's going to be okay. I'm going to get better. That's never gonna happen again."

"You promise?" Rick asked.

"I promise," Morty replied.

The two stood there in silence holding each other for another minute. Morty's warm presence comforted Rick, and his breathing evened out. Morty was okay. He hadn't lost him. He shook that unpleasant thought out of his head. If he lost Morty, he didn't know what he would do. A Rick without his Morty was lost.

He'd seen it happen before at the citadel. Ricks who had lost their Mortys were cold and cruel. They no longer cared about anything anymore- that is, if they even survived losing their Morty. Rick had no doubt that he'd be one of the countless who didn't.

Morty pulled away so he could look up at Rick. "It's a good thing you're here, actually," he said. "Doctor Blair wants to set up a family therapy session tomorrow at eight."

"The whole family?" Rick asked.

"Yep. Well, Summer doesn't have to come, but he thinks you and my parents really need to be there."

Rick hated the idea of family therapy, and probably nothing short of Morty trying to kill himself would make him go. But Morty had tried to kill himself, so Rick agreed in a heartbeat. "We'll be there," he promised. "I'll make sure of it."

Morty beamed up at him, and Rick couldn't help but smile. His grandson's smile was contagious. It always had been, ever since he was a baby. If there was one thing Rick regretted, it was not being there more during Morty's childhood.

"What's that you'reEURGH filling out?" Rick asked, glancing at the paper that had been discarded on the bed.

"Oh, that," Morty said. "It's a questionnaire about the love languages so that Doctor Blair can identify my needs."

Love languages? It sounded like a load of psychobabble to Rick, but if it was going to help Morty, he wouldn't make fun of it.

"Alright, kid," Rick said. "I was thinking, I'm not sure if we're ready for an adventure, but maybe we could pop out real quick for some lunch and ice cream."

Morty's eyes lit up. "I'd love that!" he exclaimed. "I just need to be back by two for group therapy."

Rick smiled and put his arm around Morty's shoulder. "Where do you wanna go?"

"H-h-how about that one burger joint in the Hanfluruian universe?" Morty suggested.

"Best burger joint in the multiverse," Rick replied. "When you're right, you'reEURGH right Morty." Rick drew his portal gun and set in the coordinates. "Let's go," he said, launching the portal. He took his grandson's hand and dragged him through.


	8. Group Therapy

"We have a new patient with us," Doctor Kinion announced. "Morty, would you like to introduce yourself to the group?"

Morty anxiously looked over at Liz sitting beside him, who gave him an encouraging smile and nod. "H-h-hi, I'm M-morty," he stuttered. "My g-grandpa's a genius, and I travel around the universe with him."

"That sounds fun," the doctor replied, her tone as sweet as honey. "Where are you from?"

"Earth," Morty answered.

"Ay, me too!" Liz exclaimed. She held her hand up, and Morty gave her a high-five.

"Thank you, Morty," Doctor Kinion said. "Today, we're going to be talking about self worth." She paused. "What are some external things you rely on for self worth?"

"Money," Liz replied.

"My relationship with my grandpa," Morty blurted out, surprising even himself.

"How so?" Doctor Kinion asked.

"Well, up until a few days ago I thought all I was good for was masking his brainwaves with my own," he said. "I felt used, but it gave me purpose."

"So you define yourself by your relationship with your grandfather?" Doctor Kinion asked.

"I suppose I do," Morty answered.

"I can understand," Grace piped up. "I used to think my worth was based on how many friends I had."

"Thank you for your input," Doctor Kinion said. "Would anyone else like to share?"

Danny raised his hand. Doctor Kinion nodded at him, and he said, "I judge my worth based on my weight."

"Thank you for sharing." Doctor Kinion pulled packets of paper out of her purse and began handing them out. "Our core self is our worth. All people have internal worth that's not defined by externals. Some externals we've already mentioned are money, our relationships with other people, and weight."

Morty stared down at the paper in his hands. On it was a list of things like money, friends, and looks. "Most people think their value is defined by externals," Doctor Kinion continued. "But we have a worth that cannot be defined by externals because it is so great."

Morty listened intently to Doctor Kinion as she went on about self worth, and it was like a dusty, old lightbulb was turning on in his brain. He had had self worth a long time ago, but that was before Rick told him about his brain waves. Before his mother didn't hesitate to save Summer. Before school. Before everything had gone wrong.

He sighed as he thought about how stupid he felt. Was Doctor Kinion right? Was he worth more than his grades and his learning disability?

Morty was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't even notice that group had ended until Liz put a hand on his shoulder. "It's some heavy stuff, huh?" she asked.

"Yeah," Morty agreed. "I can't even wrap my head around it."

Liz pulled up a chair and sat backwards on it. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Yeah, it's just, well you see," Morty struggled to find the words. "I'm autistic," he finally said. "And sometimes I have trouble with my grades because of it."

Liz nodded in understanding. "I have ADHD, and I'd be lying if I said it didn't affect my grades."

"My family treats me different. Almost like I'm stupid." A tear slid down his cheek. "Just stupid Morty."

"Hey," Liz said firmly, grabbing Morty's hand. "You. Are not. Stupid."

Morty sniffled. "Thanks," he said. "Y-you know, you're a really good friend."

"So are you," Liz said. "I can tell. I have excellent intuition."

"Thanks," Morty replied, wiping his eyes. "Sometimes I just want to run away from my life. It's all just too much sometimes."

"I feel you," Liz said. "I really do. But running away is never the answer. It'll only make things worse."

"I tried to run away permanently," Morty lamented. "Look where that got me."

Frustrated, Liz grabbed his hand again. "It got you here, so you can get the help you deserve. Morty Smith, you deserve to get better, goddamn it."

Morty couldn't take anymore. He burst into tears, sobbing into his hand. Liz moved to wrap her arms around him, holding him in her embrace. "It's ok," she said softly. "Just let it all out."

"I wish I hadn't failed," Morty admitted. "I wish my grandpa would have just replaced me."

Liz continued to hold him, humming a soothing lullaby in his ear. Morty let himself fall into her comfort, wrapping an arm around Liz. He continued to cry. He was passed being embarrassed.

"Morty, I've tried to kill myself too," Liz admitted. "And all that I learned is that I have a life worth living. And so do you. You just need a little help seeing it right now."

"Really?" Morty sniffled.

"Really," Liz promised. "I'll help you Morty. You'll be okay. You'll see."

* * *

Rick had finally taken the time to take care of himself with a hot shower. With fresh clothes on, he was feeling a lot better. Morty had been in good spirits when Rick saw him, so that was encouraging. At this rate, Morty would be out of the hospital soon and back to helping his grandpa on adventures.

Now there was just one thing to tackle before he saw Morty again.

"What do you mean couple's therapy?" Beth asked, looking offended.

"I mean that your fighting is hurting Morty, so you either fix your marriage or get a divorce," Rick informed his daughter and son-in-law.

"Now the last time you sent us to couple's therapy, we almost died," Jerry argued.

"I've found another, much safer plEURGHace. If they can't fix your marriage, no one can."

"Well, I'm willing to do what it takes," Jerry replied.

Beth fixed a glare on him. "And you think I'm not?"

"Need I remind you that your son cuts himself to escape your fighting?" Rick snapped, growing more irritated by the minute.

Both Beth and Jerry looked down in shame. "I never realized the harm we were doing," she admitted. "But I love Jerry. I'm willing to try couple's therapy."

"Good," Rick said. "Now that we've got that settled, I'll schedule an appointment. But first, we need to attend family therapy tomorrow morning at the hospital."

"Okay," Beth agreed. "We'll get better for Morty."

"Morty deserves better," Jerry replied.

Rick's gaze softened. The two may be idiots, but at least they were trying. "I don't care about whatever you're feeling," Rick said. "Tomorrow is about Morty."

The couple agreed, and Rick left them to it. Their marriage wasn't his problem, but Morty was.

He could only imagine that Morty was going stir crazy sitting at the hospital, so he decided to visit again. He pulled out his portal gun and quickly made his way to the hospital room.

Morty's entire demeanor had changed since this morning. He sat on his bed, puffy-eyed and head hung. Immediately, Rick rushed over to him in concern. "M-m-morty, are you alright?"

Morty sniffled. "Am I stupid, Rick?" he asked.

"No," Rick replied vehemently. "Would I take you with me on- on adventures if I really thought you were stupid, Morty? Of course not."

"Thanks," Morty replied. "Group therapy was just a little heavy, that's all."

Rick ruffled the boy's hair, distressed. He had always known Morty had a low self esteem, but it wasn't until now that he was seeing just how damagingly low it was.

"I realized something," Morty said.

"What's that?" his grandpa asked.

"I-i have this way of defining myself by our relationship. L-like I only see myself as an extension of you."

"You can't think like that, Morty," Rick said. "You're an individual. You're special."

"If I am, then you're the only one who sees it," Morty said with a sad sigh. "The kids at school will never stop calling me a retard."

"Listen to me," Rick said firmly. "School? Doesn't matter. What we do out in the multiverse; that's what matters."

"I guess you're right," Morty replied with a smile.

"I'm always right," Rick said indignantly. "And someday, I-i-i'll be gone, and you're gonna take my place."

"Really?" Morty asked, his eyes shining.

"Of course!" Rick exclaimed. "And that's why I'm going to teach you everything I know."

Morty stood up and gave his grandpa a thankful hug. Rick's heart felt warm as he wrapped his arms around the boy. Yeah, he had a long way to go, but he was already so far from the boy who tried to kill himself, and that gave Rick hope. Morty's soul wasn't broken, just damaged but not beyond repair.

"Have you tried out your TV yet?" Rick asked, pointing to the television in the corner of the room.

Morty shook his head. "It doesn't have inter-dimensional cable, so what's the point?"

Rick grinned widely. "I can fix that."


	9. Family Therapy

Morty sat in Doctor Blair's office staring awkwardly down at his shoes as his parents stared down at him with concern. He wanted to be anywhere else at that moment. Doctor Blair coughed, and Morty fidgeted. "Mr. and Mrs. Smith," Doctor Blair addressed his parents, shaking their hands. "Please, have a seat. Oh, and you must be Mr. Sanchez."

"Just call me Rick," his grandpa said gruffly. "And I'm fine standing."

"Alright," Doctor Blair agreed.

Morty sighed. It appeared his grandpa felt the same way about family therapy. Tears threatened to leak out of Morty's eyes. He felt like just a burden on his family. Without him, they'd probably be doing something enjoyable right now.

"For many of us, depression and anxiety stems from our needs not being met," Doctor Blair began. After speaking with Morty, that appears to be the case. I've assessed him and discovered that his primary love language is words of affirmation. This could be due to his personality or neglect."

Morty's parents stayed silent as a tears slid down his face.

"Let me ask you, how often do you tell Morty you love him?"

There was another awkward pause. "Well, we kinda assumed he just knew," Beth said finally.

"Do you ever tell him you love him?"

Morty thought back to the alien parasite incident. His mother had told him she loved him then, but it hadn't been enough. She had walked away before the parasite was out, leaving Rick alone to help Morty.

"How about, do you ever tell him you're proud of him?"

His grandpa had on a few occasions. But his parents? Never. It was always, "You need to try harder, Morty."

At the silence that followed, Doctor Blair sighed. "You see, Morty is suffering from what's known as Childhood Emotional Neglect. Rather than something happening to him, it's something that didn't happen to him. Basically, his emotional need for love and security never got met, and it's manifesting itself now as depression."

"Oh god," Beth whispered. "What do we do?"

"Well, you could start by telling Morty how much he means to you," Doctor Blair said. "It's obvious that he needs the verbal reassurance. And you need to have a talk with his principle about the bullying problem."

"Will do," Jerry said. "We love our son, and we are prepared to do anything."

"I've got them attending couple's therapy to help their fighting," Rick added.

Doctor Blair smiled. "That's great, Rick. Now, there's the matter of Morty's PTSD."

Morty looked up in confusion. "My what?"

"Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder," the doctor explained.

Beth and Jerry were clearly confused too. "When did he develop that?"

Doctor Blair turned to Morty. "As you know, I spoke to your grandfather. He informed me about your phobia of public bathrooms."

Morty's face flushed hot red in embarrassment. No. He sunk back in his seat, trying to disappear.

"Morty," Beth said gently. "What happened."

"I-it was the first adventure I got to choose," Morty said softly. "I went to go to the bathroom, and there was a large jellybean person in there. H-h-he seemed s-so friendly, but then he- he grabbed me and started rubbing me. I-i-i tried to leave, but he pinned me down and- and- and licked my face, and called me a tease, and when he loosened his grip I w-was able to punch him and escape."

Morty couldn't look at his parent's horrified faces as he started to sob. He covered his red face with his hands, trying to muffle the sounds. His shoulders shook, and he felt a gentle hand settle on his shoulder. He looked up briefly just to see that it was Rick.

"Oh, sweetie," Beth said, struggling not to cry. "I'm so sorry."

"What happened?" Jerry demanded. "Did you just let him walk free?"

"I took matters into my own hands," Rick answered darkly, leaving no room for interpretation.

"If Morty's gonna get better, we are going to need to tackle the depression, neglect, and trauma all at once. And I'm not going to lie to you about it. It's going to be really hard. But if you love him, you'll put in the work."

"Of course we will," Jerry agreed.

"Just say the word, Morty. We'll give you whatever you need," Beth said.

"Thanks," Morty mumbled. "Right now, I think I'd just like to talk to Rick before group therapy."

* * *

Morty was still crying by the time Rick had walked him back to his room. Rick shut the door to give them some privacy. The crying teen collapsed onto his bed, burying his face into his pillow. Rick sat down next to him and began to gently rub his back. "It was really brave of you to tell your parents what happened. I-i'm proud of you, Morty."

"It's all my fault that it happened in the first place," Morty sobbed.

Rick froze, his blood running cold.

"That- that's not possible, Morty. What do you mean?"

"I talked to him! I led him on! I said I should just 'go with the flow!'" Morty practically screamed.

"Hey," Rick said sternly. "That is not leading someone on. From the moment you said no, he should have backed off. This is in no way your fault."

Morty sniffled and rolled over to face Rick. "Really?" he asked.

"Really," Rick responded, leaning forward to brush the tears from his grandson's face with his sleeve. He hated the idea that Morty was blaming himself for his own trauma- the actions of some sick creep. "Now, I wanna hear you say it, Morty."

"S-say what?"

"'It's not my fault.'"

"It's not my fault," Morty repeated.

"Good," Rick said. "Now if you ever start to think it is again, you just remind yourself of that."

Morty sat up and rubbed at his eyes. "I wanna go home," he said, sounding forlorn.

"There is nothing I would love to do more than take you home with me," Rick admitted. "But every time I close my eyes, I see you in that bathtub, barely alive. I can't do that again."

"I understand," Morty said as he started to cry again.

Rick pulled the teen into his lap and held him tightly to his chest. Morty leaned into him, letting himself cry. This was good, Rick thought, it was healthy for Morty to get it all out. Rick began rubbing his back again, humming a lullaby that he had long ago written for his grandson. The noise seemed to calm Morty as his crying subsided.

"Feeling better?" Rick asked.

"Yeah," Morty said. "C-can we just stay like this for a minute?"

"Of course," Rick replied, holding him tighter. "I love you, Morty," he added, remembering what Doctor Blair had told him.

"I love you too," came the unexpected reply.

Rick sat in silence, holding his grandson as if he were his only lifeline. And some days, it felt like he was. Maybe other Ricks tried to say that they didn't care about Morty's, but this was one Rick who knew that was bullshit. Rick's couldn't cope without Mortys. They needed each other to stay sane in a crazy and chaotic universe.

"You're a good kid, Morty," Rick said. "A-and you don't deserve any of this. You deserve to know you're loved. You deserve to he fought for. And we haven't done a good job of that. But- but we're gonna be better. I'm gonna be better."

"You know, I've never thanked you for everything you've done for me," Morty replied. "If it weren't for you, I probably would have tried to kill myself sooner."

Rick's stomach flipped as the implication of Morty's words set in. He placed a gentle kiss on the top of Morty's head. "Well then, thank God for me."


	10. Relapse

It was in the early hours of the morning when Morty awoke from a particularly nasty dream about King Jellybean. He could feel those hands roughly pinning him against the sink and the saliva dripping from his mouth onto Morty's face. Morty scratched violently where he could still feel the drool, leaving red marks all over his face.

His heart was still racing as he jumped out of bed. He didn't know what he was doing, but he needed to do something. He had to take the pain away somehow.

Morty froze. He needed to cut.

He looked around the room frantically for anything sharp, and his eyes landed on the picture frame Rick had brought him. It was supposed to comfort him, but all it did was make him sick. In anger, he threw it down. The glass broke, and he quickly picked up a piece and ran into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Morty sunk to the floor and leaned back against the wall. Tears were flowing freely from his eyes. He needed to cut the memory of hands roaming all over him away. He roughly pressed the piece of glass into his skin and dragged.

He wasn't trying to die like last time, so he only drew shallow, horizontal lines. Still, it was enough to make his blood trickle down his arm, staining his clothes. By the time he had forgotten about King Jellybean, he was a sobbing, bloody mess.

He could hear Rick's voice in his head. 'Promise me you'll talk to me if you feel like doing this to yourself,' he had said.

'I will,' Morty had replied.

Guilt and shame came over him as he realized what he had done. He wasn't at home. He couldn't just clean the cuts up himself. He was going to have to tell a nurse. Rick was going to find out, and it was going to break his heart.

Morty sighed. He was always screwing up. It felt like that was all he could do.

He had a wire around his neck that had a call button for emergencies. Deciding that this was one, he pressed it and waited for the nurse to arrive.

It wasn't long before a gentle voice called out his name. "In here," Morty replied. The nurse opened the bathroom door and sighed sadly at the sight in front of her.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

The nurse knelt down in front of him and began rubbing an anti-infection cream into his cuts. It stung, but Morty held a straight face. She bandaged his arms gently, and Morty tried not to cry. He was letting everyone down. He was letting Rick down.

She held out her hand, and Morty gave her the piece of glass. When she left the room, Morty leaned his head back against the wall and sighed. A few tears trickled out. He just wanted this whole nightmare to be over, to go home, and to be better.

He heard the nurse cleaning up the glass mess and sighed. Now he would have no way to cut. Perhaps that was for the best. He'd seen the pain in Rick's face when he looked at Morty's scars. It hurt to think that he could cause others pain when he only wanted to hurt himself.

Morty stood up with new determination. He was going to get better, if not for himself, then at least for his family. They deserved better.

* * *

Rick was in good spirits as he picked up a plate of pancakes for Morty and stepped through the portal to the hospital. "Hey, Morty!" he said cheerfully. "I brought you a surprise."

"Gee, th-thanks Rick," Morty stuttered, not moving from his bed.

Rick narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Morty was holding his arms behind his back and had an ashamed look on his face. Rick sighed, put the pancakes down on Morty's nightstand, and sat down next to the boy. "You cut again, didn't you?" he asked.

Morty placed his bandaged arms in his laps. "I'm sorry," he said meekly, holding back tears.

Rick pulled him into a comforting hug. "It's ok, Morty," he said. "Relapse is just a part of recovery. You're note letting me down."

He held Morty closer as the boy started to cry. "I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I know I promised you I wouldn't do it, but I did."

"Shhh, it's alright," Rick said gently. "It happened, it's over, so don't beat yourself up about it. Learn from it."

Morty pulled out of the hug so he could look Rick in the eye. "How are you so calm about this?" he asked.

Rick sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Depression runs in the family, kid," he said. "Your mom and I? We turned to alcohol. You turned to cutting."

Morty nodded, considering Rick's words. "I'm gonna get better for you," he said. "I promise."

Rick smiled sadly. "I'm glad to hear that, kiddo, but I want you to want to get better for yourself too."

Morty's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"You have to want to live for you. Not for me. Not for your family. You."

"I guess I understand," Morty said with a nod.

"And I promise you, you'll get there. You're just a little sick right now, and that's okay, because the universe is crazy and chaotic, and it's okay to not be okay sometimes. I'm not okay sometimes. No one is okay all the time.

Morty's eyes welled up with tears. "Thank you," he said. "I've been trying so hard not to be ashamed of feeling this way."

"There's nothing to be ashamed of," Rick told him while ruffling his hair. "I love you, Morty."

"Are you just saying that because my therapist told you too?" Morty asked skeptically.

"I'm saying it because it's true," Rick said. "And because I know I can be mean, but I can't allow my grandson to think I don't love him."

Morty smiled brightly and wrapped his arms around Rick. A warm feeling flooded through him as he returned the hug. "Thanks, grandpa Rick."

"Now, you better eat these pancakes I brought you before they get too soggy."


	11. The Garden

Morty made his way across the kitchen cafeteria to Liz's table. The food didn't look particularly appetizing, but Morty was hungry, and his grandpa hadn't brought him any extra food today. Liz was talking to Paul about something, but Morty wasn't paying attention. His mind was on his arms, and what the other kids would think. He tried to hide them under the table, but he wasn't quick enough.

"What happened?" Liz asked, looking at him in genuine concern.

"Nightmare," Morty said sheepishly, blushing.

"Wanna talk about it?" Liz asked.

Morty wanted to decline, but for some reason he found himself spilling his secret. "I was sexually assaulted by a stranger in the bathroom a few months ago."

Liz's face melted into one of fierce empathy. "I'm so sorry," she said.

"You're not alone," Grace piped up. "I was sexually abused until I was six. If you ever need to talk, I'm here."

Morty thanked the young girl and stared at her in horror. To think someone as innocent and pure as Grace had gone through something so tragic... well, it was unthinkable.

Liz reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "That's a tough break though," she said. "They'll probably push back your discharge date."

"Ah geez, really?" Morty asked. He just wanted to go home.

"I feel ya," Liz said. "I really do. This place tries to get people stable and home quickly, but some of us need more time than others."

"How long have you been here, Liz?" Morty asked.

"A week ago yesterday," she replied. "My longest stay was a month during my worst depressive episode. Bipolar can be a real bitch."

"I can imagine," Morty mumbled.

"Make sure you drink plenty of water," Danny said. "The water here is good for blood loss."

"Oh, ok," Morty said, taking a huge swig from his glass.

"Don't worry about it," Paul said. "It happens to everyone."

Morty quickly finished his food, wondering if he was gonna see his grandpa today. He had seen him every day so far, but he worried that his grandpa was getting bored of spending so much time in the hospital when he could be out having adventures with Summer.

Morty sighed. His tray was empty, and his spirits were low. Liz seemed to pick up on this, because she asked, "Hey Morty, can I show you something?"

"Sure," Morty replied with curiosity.

He followed Liz outside the back of the hospital, where large, beautiful flowers that were bigger than him grew. "Wow," he said, taken aback. "It's beautiful."

"It is," Liz agreed. "I like to come back here to think."

Morty gently touched a pink flower petal. "Where are we, anyways?"

"We're on dwarf Alpha-14," she said. "Home to the best psychiatric hospital in the multiverse."

"You know about the multiverse?" Morty asked.

"Yeah," she said. "My mother is dedicated to exploring it."

"So's my grandpa," Morty said excitedly. "He takes me on adventures all the time!"

"Sounds fun," Liz said. "The biggest adventure I've ever been on is right here."

"Hey, maybe when we both get out of here, you can come on some adventures with my grandpa and I!" Morty exclaimed.

Liz's eyes lit up in excitement. "Really?" she asked.

"Yeah," Morty agreed. "Even if he minded, I have the right to pick one in ten of every Rick and Morty adventure, and you can come on all of those."

Gently, Liz leaned down and softly kissed Morty softly on the cheek. "You're very sweet."

Morty couldn't speak. His tongue felt limp in his mouth as he blushed hard. "I-i-i try," Morty mumbled, as soon as he could talk again.

Liz reached out and stroked a large leaf. "I'd love to explore the universe," she said. "I bet it's beautiful."

Morty laughed. "It's crazy and chaotic."

"That's the beauty of it."

* * *

Rick was walking through the living room when he noticed Summer sitting alone, playing on her phone. She looked up hopefully when she heard Rick's footsteps. "Are you going to visit Morty?" she asked.

It was clear by the pain in her eyes that she missed her brother. "Yeah, um, do you wanna come?"

Her eyes lit up as she smiled. "Yes!" she exclaimed.

"Cool," Rick responded. He shot a portal into the middle of the room and stepped through into Morty's hospital room. His grandson was sitting on the floor playing checkers with a green-haired girl; he assumed this was the friend Liz Morty had mentioned.

Morty looked up, his eyes shining with happiness. His whole demeanor had changed since yesterday. He sat up straight and smiled genuinely. "Hi, Rick," he greeted cheerfully.

Summer stepped into the room behind him. "Hey, Morty!" she exclaimed. "How are you?"

"Good," Morty replied. "I talked to my doctor today. You remember Kingsley? She thinks they're gonna be able to set a discharge date for me soon."

"Oh, that's great!" Summer said excitedly. "I've missed you so much." She crossed the room, knelt down in front of her brother, and wrapped him in a huge hug. Morty smiled as he returned the embrace.

"Yeah. They're thinking I might be ready to try outpatient."

"He's done really well here," Liz spoke up. "I've had a lot of stays here and seen a lot of lost souls, but none have been as resilient as Morty."

"You must be Liz," Rick said.

"I am," Liz responded. "I'm a friend of your grandson's."

Rick smiled. Morty needed friends, and he obviously wasn't getting that at school. Honestly, the boy just needed to feel wanted, and having a friend could be a huge part in that.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," Morty announced, standing up. "I'll be back in a minute."

Once Morty had left, Rick turned back to Liz. "Thank you for being his friend," he said.

"You're welcome," Liz responded. "I can tell you guys really care about him."

Summer nodded. "I feel so bad for not knowing anything was going on with him."

"Trust me," Liz said. "We're masters at hiding the truth."

Morty returned, and Rick decided to tell them the good news. "I dropped your parents off at couple's therapy this morning," he said. "They're gonna work throughEURGH their issues so you don't have to deal with them."

"Th-that's great, Rick," Morty replied with a smile. "We're all getting our shit together, and we're gonna be a happy family."

Rick's heart ached as he wondered how long Morty had been wishing for that.

"He-hey, Rick, I was wondering," Morty began. "Could Liz come with us on our adventures sometime?"

Both teenagers looked up at him hopefully. Rick wasn't thrilled by the idea, but it was obvious that Liz had made herself a vital part of Morty's support system, and if she wanted in on the adventures, then she wasn't planning on going anywhere, which Rick liked. "Sure th-thing, kiddo." Besides, he didn't have the heart to deny Morty after all he had been through.

"Thanks," Morty replied with a huge smile. Rick couldn't help but think Morty had developed a crush on the older girl, if it was even possible for him to get over his crush for Jessica. Maybe that would be a good thing for him. He only hoped that Liz wouldn't turn around and break his fragile heart. A mental image of Morty laying in the bathtub filled his head, and Rick grimaced. He couldn't go through that again.

"Morty, the house has been so dead without you," Summer said. "Mom and Dad barely say a word, but I can tell they're in pain. We're incomplete without our Morty."

Morty hugged his sister again. "I know that now," he said. "I know a lot of things I didn't know before coming here. So thanks Rick for making me stay. If- if you hadn't, we'd probably have ended up back here anyways, or worse."

Or worse. That wasn't a thought Rick could allow himself to linger on. When the time came, Morty needed to be able to survive without Rick, but Rick couldn't survive without Morty. It was unthinkable. And to think the kid had thought he would just be replaced with another Morty. No, if his Morty died, so did Rick.


	12. Welcome Home

Morty stood in the middle the lobby, suitcase in hand. He remembered when he had first arrived in this place, waking up in that bed with his grandpa holding his hand. Looking down at the scars on his arms, it was hard to believe it had only been about a week ago. Morty gave a sigh of contentment. He didn't have to hide from his family anymore.

The familiar whirring noise interrupted Morty from his thoughts, and he looked up to see the familiar green portal open in the middle of the room. Rick stepped out, grinning happily. "Morty!" he exclaimed. "You ready to go home?"

"I've been ready," Morty answered, stepping forward. "Let's go." He couldn't wait for everything to get back to normal.

Rick took his grandson's hand and pulled him through the portal. On the other side, his family was gathered around the dining room table. Even his new friend Liz was there, along with the kind-hearted Jessica. A delicious looking chocolate cake with the words "Welcome home Morty" inscribed in yellow frosting on it.

Beth was the first to run forwards and wrap Morty in a hug. "I love you," she said. "And I'm so happy you're home."

"I love you too, Mom," Morty replied.

"Can't wait to see you again at school," Jessica said. "I'll help you catch up."

Morty realized he didn't feel the familiar butterflies in his stomach when his classmate talked. Maybe he was getting over his crush on Jessica. That was probably for the best. Jessica was kind and shone brighter than anyone ever had, but she was unattainable. Everyone knew that she would end up running back to Brad. It was only a matter of time.

"We did it, kid," Liz said, winking at him. The green-haired girl had just been discharged as well and would be moving into the same outpatient program he was attending for the next four weeks.

Now, it was Jerry's turn to hug him. "I love you, son," he said, ruffling the boy's hair. "And I'm sorry we weren't a good family to you. But we're gonna be."

Morty began to tear up from happiness. Just a week ago, he never could have imagined feeling this loved and accepted. He still had a lot to work through, not to mention more family therapy sessions, but already so much had changed.

Summer hugged him so tight he almost couldn't breathe. "I'm so happy to have my brother back," she said.

"I'm happy to be back," Morty replied honestly. He wasn't just happy to be home. He was happy to feel like himself again. He wondered what went wrong, and why somewhere along the way he had lost himself and realized that over time, it was the little things that had worn him down.

"Come on, Morty," Liz said, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the table. "You get the first slice."

Rick cut the cake, and Morty eagerly bit into his piece, letting the chocolate flavor fill his mouth. "This is good," he replied. "Who made it?"

"BethEURGH did," Rick answered, handing his daughter a piece.

"Thanks, Mom," Morty replied.

"Anything for you, honey."

Morty smiled. Everything was gonna be alright.

* * *

Rick stood off to the side and watched his family smoother Morty with love and affection. It was never something Rick had needed, but he was learning how to be more open about his feelings for Morty. For so long, Rick had treated Morty just like himself. But Morty wasn't him, and it was way passed time he realized that.

He saw Liz wiping chocolate from the corner of Morty's mouth with a napkin and smiled. That girl was going to be good for Morty. He liked her much better than that redhead Morty pined over. He was surprised Jessica was even here. He supposed that if she and Brad were "on", she wouldn't be. It made him angry to think of the way she treated Morty, being sweet when she and Brad were "off", leading him on, but always getting back together with Brad and letting him torment the boy. Morty deserved better.

Taking a swig from his flask, he acknowledged the warm feeling in his stomach, and it wasn't from the alcohol. It was from his grandkid's smile, which reached from ear to ear. How long had it been since Morty had smiled that purely? Rick didn't know when Morty lost the light in his eyes or how he had failed to notice. He was never good at emotions.

For a minute, Rick's mind wandered back to that bloody bathtub. He thanked whatever power may be that he had needed to take a shit at exactly the right time to find him there.

There were no words to describe how he felt right now. His insides were an emotional storm of pain and regret, but also of joy and relief. He wondered how it was possible for a person to feel so much.

The time came for Jessica and Liz to lead (Rick had assisted him with his portal gun), and it was time for Rick to do what he had been waiting for all afternoon. He approached his grandson. "Hey, Morty," he said. "Can you come out to the garage with me real quick?"

"Sure, Rick," Morty replied, looking up at him and smiling. God, he would never get tired of that smile. He lex Morty to the garage where a portal gun lay on the desk. He picked it up and gently tossed it over to Morty.

His grandson stared down in shock. "W-w-what is this, Rick?"

"It's a portal gun, dumbass," Rick replied affectionately. "Your very own."

Morty's eyes shone bright. "Really?" he asked in excitement.

"Yes, really," Rick agreed. "If you're going to take my place someday, you better figure out how to work with one of these." He stepped closer and pointed to a button on the underneath. "This right here will send a distress signal with your exact coordinates to my portal gun," Rick explained.

"Thank you so much," Morty said. He wrapped his arms tightly around his grandfather, who hugged him back just as tightly. "You're the best grandpa ever."

Rick's heart swelled at those words. He had failed at being a father, but he wasn't going to make the same mistake with Morty.

* * *

 **Epilogue to come soon.**


	13. Epilouge

"Are you building a giant statue of yourself?"

Morty and Liz were playing Minecraft together when Morty asked her the question. Liz gave a suspicious laugh. "Why would I do that?"

"Because you're conceited?" Morty responded. "Come on, those look exactly like your converse."

Liz stuck her tongue out at him and began building her legs. "Come on, Mort. You can't deny this face is glorious."

Morty snickered at being called Mort. As far as Liz knew, she was the only one to call him that. His family just called him Morty, and his grandpa was always full of affectionate insults.

Speaking of the devil, Rick walked into the room. "A giant statue?" he commented. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"I think there's a giant statue at the citadel," Morty said.

"Gross," Rick replied, opening up a beer and sitting next to Morty.

"Wanna play?" Liz asked.

"You bet," Rick replied, grabbing his laptop. "And I'm gonEURGHna build a st-statue even bigger and better than yours."

"Bring it on," Liz challenged.

It had been about a week since the kids' last outpatient session, and Liz had been over at Morty's house everyday. She didn't have any friends back home. Her bipolar disorder had scared them away. But now, she had Rick and Morty, and she was honored to call them her friends.

Together, they were happy.

* * *

 **So we've come to the end of this fix. Thank you to everyone who took the journey with me. You guys made it worth it. I plan on starting a role-reversed sequel with aged up Morty/Liz. Join me there if you're interested.**


End file.
